What Your Best Friend Knows
by dinosaur-idontcare
Summary: Santana and Blaine are childhood best friends. Nothing changes, but everything changes too. definite potential for Klaine and Brittana later on. :
1. Chapter 1

_I've always been a huge fan of Santana/Blaine friendship, in all it's forms. _  
><em>So yeah, this happened. <em>

_warnings: language, violence_  
><em>disclaimer: i own nothing. it's AU before anything. <em>

_enjoy! _

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><p>This is just how it goes, ever since they were children. Blaine would like to claim innocence, but really, it usually starts with him, no matter how accidental his participation may be.<p>

Blaine lets something slip across his lips without thinking and Santana gets that _look_ on her face that pretty much just foretells the fact that they'll probably be getting into trouble for something sooner or later. Because Blaine is usually the catalyst of Santana's very best schemes, even if it's just because he's always had an issue with his brain to mouth filter.

They grew up together. It was always Blaine and Santana, together. And they inevitably got a reputation as trouble makers, not that Blaine prided himself on that. He just spent a lot of time in front of _disappointed in you _parents and teachers, and most of the time when he wasn't in school he was grounded from everyone but Santana (because their parents had tried to separate them as punishment a total of once before they learned what an absolutely terrible idea _that _was). Their childhood was filled with adventures into places they had strictly been told not to go near, with scraped knees, broken lamps and, one summer, a matching set of broken arms (and Blaine had always wondered if maybe their parents hadn't been just a little bit happy with two cartoon-watching, ice-cream-eating children with plastered up arms and only each other for company, just because it had meant that they weren't out causing trouble for once).

They spent long summers trying to catch tadpoles and playing hopscotch. They spent winters catching snow flakes and refusing to go inside, even when their eye lashes froze and their noses and cheeks had turned bright red.

Blaine couldn't remember a time spent without Santana. They sat next to each other in classrooms (once again because teachers only tried to separate them the one time before they learnt what a disaster that idea was), and played together at recess. They wore matching friend ship bracelets and had a hundred thousand matching memories.

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><p>Blaine had always been quiet, because Santana was loud enough for both of them. But towards the end of middle school he kept on getting quieter and quieter, until he barely ever spoke at all.<p>

"Blaine, what is it?" she whispered, wrapping their hands together and forcing him to look into her eyes.

He didn't need to ask what she meant, because they both always just _knew, _"Santana. I-I...think I'm g-gay."

"Okay."

And that was that.

Until it really wasn't.

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><p>Sometime in the summer between middle school and freshman year, boys started noticing Santana (and they noticed Blaine too-but it wasn't in a good way at all) and that was all well and good, he was glad, honestly, because Santana was wonderful and she deserved the attention, but it meant she wasn't always with Blaine, and she didn't always see what was happening. She didn't see the locker checks, or the way people would flip his books up and over his arms so the spilled across the hallways. He never told her about the three hours he spent trapped in a janitors closet, because he knew she would be angry, but also so very sad. And he wouldn't make Santana sad. He wouldn't ever make her worry. And he definitely wouldn't tell her that the boy she was dating, the boy who made her smile so prettily, had been the one to shove him in there, shouting <em>maybe you'll remember where you belong, faggot.<em>

So Blaine took his abuse quietly. A stiff upper lip and sob muffled by his pillows in the middle of the night. He refused to go to their old swimming hole that autumn, because she'd see the bruises that painted his skin and she would ask questions that Blaine wouldn't answer.

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><p>In middle school they had gone to all the school dances together. But for Sadie Hawkins in freshman year, Santana asked that boy and he said yes. So Blaine asked Jace. They were friends and it was entirely platonic, even if they were both gay. He thought it might be nice to not fake smiles at a girl who would be expecting something from him all night, nice to just dance with a friend and maybe go get pizza after the dance.<p>

That's not quite what happened.

Blaine and Santana got ready together and their dates picked them up at the same time. Jace smiled and told Santana she was lovely, and Blaine that he looked very handsome. He handed each of them a rose and ignored the curl of _that boy_'s lip. That boy held Santana's hand and glared daggers at Blaine whenever she wasn't looking. His hands shook so he folded them away into his pockets and didn't say a word.

They danced and made fun of stupid outfits. Santana had been pulled away at some point by some of her pretty cheerleader friends, and Blaine couldn't find her to say good bye.

That boy found them though, when they were sitting on the curb waiting for Jace's father to pick them up.

Santana found Blaine when he was laying, broken and drugged in a hospital bed.

"What the fuck is wrong with you Blaine?" She demanded the moment she walked in the room, her eyes sparkling with tears.

"Broke m' arm again, S'tana. 'M glad you don' match this time though."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Didn' wanna hurt you."

"This hurts too, Blaine. This hurts so much I can barely breathe. Why would you let someone do this to you? Why did you let it go on so long?"

"It wasn' this b'fore, S'tana."

"It was something though, Blaine. It didn't just appear fully formed as you half dead in a hospital bed. There was build up, I know it. And you didn't tell me."

"It woulda made you sad t' know. I never wanna see you sad."

"Blaine, we could have done something. We could have figured something out. We could have fixed this."

"Nothin' t' fix. 'M jus broken an' worthless an' I had t' be r'minded of that."

"Blaine. No. Blaine, don't say things like that."

"Erryone else did."

"You should have told me, Blaine. God, why didn't you tell me?"

"'cause it's easier for me t' hurt than t' see you hurtin'."

Santana let out a broken sob and Blaine hummed quietly, gesturing for her to move closer to his bed so he could take her hand. He wiped away the tears that streamed down her face with the hand that hadn't been smashed apart by a misplaced foot and whispered, "San, this hurt's more'n a few brok'n ribs. 'At's why I didn' tell you."

And then they just cried together.

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><p>Santana didn't tell Blaine, but she keyed that boy's car, slashed his tires and then went after him with a baseball bat when he tried to make her stop. <em>If you even fucking <em>think _about Blaine ever again, I will find you and I will kill you. You are fucking _nothing _compared to him and you're getting off so fucking lucky right now. I should fucking triple every mark you left on his body, but I think I'll just leave you with a little reminder instead. _She had hissed before she swung the bat with everything she had and smashed in his knee cap.

Blaine heard that something had happened to that boy, that he couldn't run track anymore because of some kind of injury that he refused to name the cause of. Blaine bought Santana flowers and sobbed onto her shoulder.

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><p>Blaine's parents sent him away. To Dalton Academy. Santana missed him more than anything, because Lima wasn't the same while he was off in Westerville, but she was so glad that nobody would hurt him anymore.<p>

She refused to go back to that school without Blaine and had her parents transfer her to McKinley immediately. It was worth the long bus ride to not see the lockers Blaine had been thrown against, to not see the bit of concrete where his blood had stained, just a little bit. To not see the people who had ruined part of the most beautiful person she had ever known.

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><p><em>this could be a one-shot or a chapter fic, i'm not sure yet.<br>__so yeah, just let me know what you think? _  
><em>if it is continued there will definitely be brittanaklaine in there. _  
><em>because...how could i not?<br>**review? **_


	2. Chapter 2

_Okay, so by popular demand this is now a chaptered fic.  
>I hope you all enjoy this chapter! :)<br>the usual warnings apply.  
>and i still own absolutely nothing. <em>

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><p>Santana Lopez had decided one thing when she left that school in favour of McKinley. She would never forgive the world for what it had done to Blaine. Never. She couldn't stand the fact that those people had seen such a lovely, sweet person and taken it upon themselves to break him. No other person could <em>ever <em>be like Blaine, as sweet and gentle and caring, and she _hated _everyone for what had been done to him. She hated herself, for not being able to protect him. She hated that she could see how broken he was now, even though he tried so hard to hide it. Santana decided to never trust again, never let her guards down. Because she had learned the hard way that even when people didn't want to hurt her, they wanted to hurt him.

And Santana was doing so well, until a blonde sat next to her and asked if she had hidden diamonds behind her eyes.

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><p>Blaine missed Santana. He felt like something was missing all the time. Nobody at Dalton could look at him and just <em>know. <em>The boys at Dalton were nice enough, of course, but Blaine was still _terrified_. He flinched away from friendly pats on the shoulder or quiet requests to borrow a pencil, and he wasn't sure his voice knew how to lift past a whisper any more.

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><p>Santana was gorgeous, athletic and without any participation on her part she ended up high on the social hierarchy very quickly. She accepted a spot on the Cheerios (mainly because Blaine had somehow got word of it and bothered her constantly about it until she agreed). The boys of McKinley were no more immune to her shining dark hair and big brown eyes than the ones at her old school had been. But Santana had changed, so with the same glare she had turned on the boy who had broken her heart and her best friend (before she had broken <em>him)<em>, she turned down every offer for a date. She had learned quickly that she could still rule the school without being part of a "power couple" à la pretty little Quinn and stupidly tall Finn. So Santana used her pretty face and absolutely ruthless personality to become Quinn's second in command by her third month at McKinley.

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><p>Blaine might have stayed the quiet new kid with the broken down eyes for all his time at Dalton Academy if it wasn't for Santana, her powers of manipulation and a chance passerby.<p>

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><p>Santana and Blaine skyped every single night, without fail, because neither one had ever actually learned how to survive properly without the other. Their separation was such a cold slap to that face that sometimes Blaine couldn't breathe. It was being forced to say goodbye to his best friend, his family, his whole life in one quick swing of a steel toed boot. Santana was no less affected by their parting, she just channelled it into a cold rage, a slowly simmering hatred at anybody who wasn't Blaine or the sweet blonde who had somehow wormed her way into Santana's heart despite her best intentions. It was during one of their nightly chats that Santana accidentally reshaped the entirety of Blaine's time at Dalton.<p>

"Sing for me, Blainey, please." she had murmured gently, her eyes soft in a way nobody at McKinley ever got to see.

"What's wrong, San?"

"I just miss you."

"I miss you too. So much."

"Sing for me? I think I miss that most of all."

"Not my stunning good looks?"

"If you think I'm here to boost your ego, you are so wrong hobbit."

"So charming."

"Only for you, dearest."

He laughed and stood up to walk across the room and grab the guitar he hadn't touched since before his transfer, even after his hand had healed. He tuned it quickly and then started to play, getting the feel of the song before he opened his mouth to sing.

_Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. _

_Now it looks as though they're here to stay, _

_Oh, I believe in yesterday. _

_Suddenly I'm not half the man I used to be, _

_There's a shadow hanging over me._

Santana bit her lip and wanted to cry at how much feeling Blaine was putting into this song. Bitterness, regret, and the same sadness that resounded in her heart as well. He had always sung with passion, channelling everything he didn't know how to say into the words someone else had written, but this was new. He usually sang of love, of joy. Even sadness had crept into his repertoire in the last couple of years, but that bitterness was new and she had no idea how it had gotten into his lovely voice, into his heart.

_Oh yesterday, came suddenly. _

_Why she had to go, I don't know_

_She wouldn't say. _

_I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday._

_Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play, _

_Now I need a place to hide away._

She realized with a jolt that he thought he had run away. He was taking what those fucking _monsters _had done to him and turning it into some kind of horrible self-loathing. That horrid bitterness was because he thought he had been a coward. _Oh Blaine. _The tears that she had barely been holding back finally spilled down her face and she could feel her lips trembling and her arms ached with an absolute need to hold Blaine.

_Oh, I believe in yesterday, _

_Why she had to go, I don't know, _

_She wouldn't say. _

_I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday. _

_Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play, _

_Now I need a place to hide away, _

_Oh I believe in yesterday. _

He ended the song with quiet harmonizing and tried to ignore the tears that had started streaming down Santana's face at some point-the exact same way she wasn't pointing out the matching ones on his face.

"Love you, San." his voice broke softly and Santana wished she had broken so much more than a single knee cap amongst those _bastards _who had done this to him.

Before she could speak a knock sounded on Blaine's end and he looked startled before standing to answer it.

Santana watched as he opened the door on two wide eyed boys who looked to be a year or two older, who just stood there staring at Blaine for a moment before the asian one said "Who are you?"

"Uh..Blaine Anderson?"

"Where did you come from?"

"Jackson."

"Right, well, why haven't you tried out for the Warblers?"

"...Warblers?"

"The glee club here."

"I...um..."

"Don't mind Wesley, his parents never trained him properly. I'm David, this is Wes." the boy flashed him a gleaming smile and stuck out a hand which Blaine just kind of stared at, "We didn't mean to intrude, but we heard you singing and...you're kind of amazing, man." Santana watched as Blaine finally took the offered hand, muttering that he wasn't all that great, he was just singing because Santana wanted him to, that he had just transferred and he didn't think he should be joining any clubs or teams so late in the year anyways.

"_Blaine Anderson." _He jumped, looking slightly guiltily towards the computer where Santana's voice had come from. Wes peeked over his shoulder, intrigued, and nudged David when he saw the _smoking hot_ girl who was glaring at the new kid.

"...yes?"

"Join the fucking glee club. Make some friends. You're amazing, and you need to stop being such a weird little hermit. These boys look...acceptable." Her eyes were almost _predatory _as they skimmed over Wes and David.

"But...Santana..."

"Blaine. I'm not accepting no for an answer. You, asian one, my name is Santana Lopez, I go to McKinley. Add me on facebook. And if fun-size here doesn't join your little...thing, you let me know, okay?"

"Y-yes."

"Very good. Now I'm going to hang up for the night, and you are going to chat about this little glee club of yours. Goodbye gentlemen. Talk you tomorrow, Blaine. Love you!"

When the sound of her ended the call sounded through the room Blaine turned back to two pairs of stunned eyes and gaping mouths.

"Dude. Your girlfriend is _terrifying." _David finally whispered, eyeing the computer like it might bite him.

"Santana? Ew. No. She's not my girlfriend. She's my best friend, we grew up together. She thinks she's my mother or something."

"She frightens me." Wes whimpered, from where he had taken cover behind David.

"She has that effect on most people, actually."

"She's super hot though. You're lucky, bro."

"Well...I'm actually g-gay." Blaine bit his lip and waiting for disgusted looks or, if he wasn't so lucky, the first blows to land.

"Cool. David and I are heterosexual life partners." Wes chirped, casually slinging an arm around David and pressing his nose to the other boys cheek with a laugh, nuzzling against him and making cooing sounds.

David pushed him away with a fond smile and said "Wes, you heard Madeline, she's actually going to castrate you if you don't learn to keep your hands to yourself."

"David! she just needs to accept our timeless love. We can't keep letting this come between us." With that he launched himself onto David's back, causing the taller boy to flail for a moment. As Wes resisted David's attempts to remove him, he smiled at Blaine and said, "So the Warblers would love to have you, Blaine. Meeting tomorrow at four. Be there or I'll tell Santana on you."

Blaine stared wide eyed at the boys in front of him, they knew he was gay and they didn't care. His head was spinning.

"Oh...kay."

"Awesome! See you then." Wes patted his head and poked David until he turned to leave, David's goodbye was muffled by the hand Wes had wrapped around his face in retribution for the other boy's resistance for the piggy back ride he was being forced to give.

Blaine watched them leave before he shut his door, slid down the back of it and sobbed for all the things he had never had, never even _seen_, before.

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><p><strong><em>review?<br>_**_chapter three is in the works, and i'm hopefully going to have more time to write now. (i've been arranging a move and working a ton and it's been cutting into writing time a lot)  
>thank you all very much for everything!<br>i'm also working on OMHK and a few other things, it essentially just depends on who is yelling at me to write them the very loudest.  
><em>


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter three!  
>Usual disclaimers still apply.<br>Hope you enjoy it! _

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><p>Blaine stood in front of a room of blazer clad boys, flanked by Wes and David. He hoped nobody could see the way he shook or that if they could they would put it down to nerves instead of what it actually was.<p>

He was terrified. His entire body was tense with the instinct to run as far and as fast as he possibly could. His hands shook and his eyes felt tight with barely restrained tears. The room was starting to spin and his breathing was too fast, too shallow. His eyes couldn't, wouldn't focus on any of the faces in the elegantly furnished room.

He was seconds from a veritable panic attack in this room full of strangers when a small, soft, _familiar_ hand slipped into his.

"Blaine, it's okay." She kept her voice low, using her long hair to shield her face from curious looks as she whispered to him.

"What are you doing here?" He could feel his breathing finally evening out as he whispered back. It was nearly Pavlovian, his reaction to her. But he knew, had always known, that nothing could be wrong when Santana was right there, their hands tangled together and her voice soft and soothing.

"I just thought you might need me today, so I came." Her smile was gentle as she brushed back the hair that was falling into his eyes.

"Thank you." She felt his breath and his gratitude wash over her face and she wanted to cry, the way she always did when she realized just how _not okay _he still was. But Santana didn't cry anymore, because it made Blaine hurt and that was the worst thing she could possibly think of.

"Sing for me, Blainey. Just for me." She patted his cheek and pulled away to sit directly across from him, ignoring the way nearly every boy in the room had focussed on the unfamiliar presence of a female in their midst.

He gave the room at large a shaky smile before he moved toward the piano.

David watched as, without thinking or even being completely aware of it, Santana repositioned herself so that she'd be directly in Blaine's line of sight when he looked up from the keys.

Nobody recognized the song he was playing until he started to sing the lyrics. He had taken the popular, upbeat song and turned it into something else. Something slower, softer, sadder and entirely his own.

_Go ahead as you waste your days with thinking_

_When you fall, everyone sins_

_Another day and you've had your fill of sinking _

_With the life held in your_

_Hands are shaking cold_

_These hands are meant to hold_

_Speak to me_

_When all you got to keep is strong _

_Move along, move along, like I know you do _

_And even when your hope is gone_

_Move along, move along, just to make it through_

_Move along _

_Move along _

_So a day when you've lost yourself completely_

_Could be a night when your life ends _

_Such a heart that will lead you to deceiving _

_All the pain held in your _

_Hands are shaking cold _

_Your hands are mine to hold _

_Speak to me _

_When all you got to keep is strong _

_Move along, move along, like I know you do_

_And even when your hope is gone_

_Move along, move along, just to make it through_

_Move along _

The Warblers stared at Blaine as he made his way through the rest of the song, fingers moving faster over the keys, voice raising as he forgot the rest of the world and put himself into the song the way he always did. It was Santana's favourite thing about hearing Blaine sing-he made it a part of himself, tied it to his heart and set it free, and it was absolutely beautiful, every single time. She smirked at the surprised faces on the boys around her. She felt that they were finally staring at the member of the duo who truly deserved the recognition. Santana may have been beautiful on the outside, but _everything_ about Blaine was stunning and these boys were smart enough to see it.

When Blaine stopped singing, chest heaving slightly with exertion, the room was left in a shocked silence for a few seconds before Wes made a slight shrieking sound and launched himself at Blaine, laughing and welcoming him to the Warblers. She watched from her seat as the rest of the boys piled around to congratulate him, to praise his voice and ask him about his rearrangement. Blaine's smile lit up his face as he looked around him and Santana forgave Dalton Academy for stealing Blaine away. If he was happy here, she could be fine with it too.

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><p>David watched the protective way Santana observed Blaine, he watched the way she looked ready to get up and defend Blaine when Wes jumped at him. He watched her settle back with a fond smile as Blaine's face lit up. He watched the softness in her eyes when she looked at him. He sat down next to her.<p>

"I'm not interested, casanova."

"I'm not either, ice queen."

"Good. What do you want?"

"What happened to him?"

"I haven't a clue what you mean."

"That boy is more broken than he lets people see. You can't be here all the time, Santana. I want to be his friend, you know. I want to be able to help him too."

"Why don't you ask him?"

"Do you think he wants to talk about it?"

The grudging glare she shot at him was tinged with the smallest amount of respect. From Santana he'd consider that something like a compliment. "You really want to know?" He gave a curt nod and recognized the evaluation she was doing of him-deciding if he was worthy before she grabbed his hand and led him from the room.

She led him away from the commons and into one of the many alcoves that littered the halls of Dalton Academy.

"You better hope you never make me regret telling you this, first of all. Because I'm sick of trusting people and having them hurt him. I won't just break your kneecaps if you hurt him."

"You make it sound like you've broken kneecaps before..."

"That's because I have. Now shut the hell up and listen because I'm not going to repeat myself."

"Oh...kay."

"Blaine used to be different, you know. Now, the only time he's like the person he used to be...it's when he sings. He used to be filled with all that brightness, all the time. People couldn't take their eyes off of him. I was always louder than he was, but he was always the more noticeable one. He gives everything he has to everything he does, everyone he knows. He's an amazing person, truly. And he happens to be gay. And that one little detail, the fact that he'd rather love a boy, apparently made it okay for those assholes at Jackson to fucking tear him apart. You want to know what happened to him, David? They almost fucking killed him. Four months ago he was laying half dead in a hospital bed, worried about how badly _I _was hurting. And he's hurting too, I can see it every single time I look at him, but I don't know how to make him okay again. I don't know how to fix this. And I know you don't understand, but I have to see him better. I have to know he'll be okay."

David carefully wrapped his arms around her, giving her the chance to wipe her eyes against his shoulder before he whispered, "Let's get back to them."

When they got back to the commons Wes and Blaine were in stitches, laughing against one another as the rest of the Warblers looked on with confused faces tinged by mild amusement.

"I do understand, you know." David whispered into her ear, nodding at Wes when she looked confused, "About needing him to be okay."

"What-?"

"Santana!" Blaine leapt up and ran into her arms, "I'm a Warbler!" He and Wes locked eyes and both boys made an absolutely ridiculous noise before collapsing back into laughter, Wes actually falling to the ground and rolling around.

"Do I even want to know?" David asked, looking down at Wes like he was resigned to this sort of behaviour from his potentially insane best friend. Santana was well familiar with this expression-Blaine had mastered it before they had even started kindergarden.

"It's a warbler call!" Wes chirped up at David, attempting to wrap his feet around David's knees to bring the other boy down as he spoke.

David rolled his eyes, aiming a kick at Wes and saying, "Well, we're doomed at sectionals, clearly."

This set Blaine and Wes off in another enthusiastic round of "warbler calls", effectively ending the conversation as everyone laughed at the two boys, now laying side by side on the ground and half screaming, half laughing out their interpretation on their choir's namesake.

Santana and David's voices joined their best friends in their wild warbler calls at almost the same moment and it wasn't long before Santana and Blaine lay side by side on the floor in the elegant senior commons at Dalton Academy, hands tangled between them, surrounded by twenty teenage boys, each of them tilting their heads back to release an interesting mix of laughter, music and warbler cry.

Neither had been so happy in a long, long time.

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><p><em><strong>Review?<br>**And so Blainers is a warbler. (to clarify, they are nearing the end of their freshman year in highschool. in my head, Blaine is attacked in November and it's March or so at this point in the story)  
>Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and i'll have the next one up as soon as i can! <em>


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry it's been so long, here's the next bit :)  
>i feel like this is a bit weirdly done, but i don't know. i like it, i guess.<br>thank you all for all of your love, support and patience, i hope i haven't disappointed!**

**enjoy! :)**

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><p>Weeks passed and Blaine kept singing, voice getting louder and louder until you couldn't help but hear him. There was something about the way he lit up when he sang that drew people to him. Something about his smile and his voice and the way he <em>meant <em>every single note that slipped past his lips.

"This is highly unconventional, but we'd like you offer you an audition."

"I thought I already auditioned..?"

"For a solo."

"B-but I'm a freshman!"

"You've earned it, Warbler Blaine."

It was the first time he'd been properly given the Warbler title. It was the first time, really, that he felt like he belonged, like he was wanted by anybody other than Santana.

"You don't have to take it, if you don't want. It's just an offer."

"I'll do it."

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><p>Santana slipped into the audience, surrounded by old people and their nurses, and watched Blaine win over every single one of them.<p>

She'd never been so proud and yet, she'd never felt more alone than she did watching this boy; so like her broken best friend, just a million times brighter. Looking at him she saw the boy she should have gotten to know, the boy she had lost somewhere just beyond their childhood. She should have seen to it that his vibrancy bloomed, not dimmed. She had failed Blaine far too many times, she could feel it in the middle of her chest. She would never deserve him, no matter what she did.

But then, unerringly, even though he hadn't known she would be there, Blaine's eyes found her and his smile got impossibly brighter.

And she knew he'd never forgive her, because he had never blamed her in the first place.

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><p>When Blaine spoke to Santana, he noticed a change. There was something harder about her now, more brittle. Her face was soft when she spoke to him, or about Brittany, but there was something different behind her eyes. Something sadder and older. She looked so much older than fifteen, like she had grown up when he wasn't watching. He couldn't help but think that at least some of it was his fault, if not all of it. He missed warm, soft Santana, who gave sweet smiles away like it was nothing, who hugged people she had just met, when there was never any bite behind her words no matter how sarcastic they came out. He watched her harden herself. He watched as she made herself so hard, so cold, that she almost forgot how to smile. He promised himself that she'd be happy again if it was the only thing he ever did for her.<p>

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><p>By the time of summer vacation, Blaine wasn't quite so broken, and Santana wasn't so breakable. Sometimes he didn't have to think about it before he laughed, he didn't flinch away from sudden contact as much. Santana didn't let people in, she kept them at an emotional arms distance, (she didn't tell him the arms distance was<em> only <em>emotional, she didn't tell him about how she'd pull boys closer to keep them farther away. She was ashamed of the kisses she refused to share, even as she shared so much else. She couldn't bring herself to tell Blaine just how dirty she had become from their groping hands and filthy eyes. She couldn't see the look his eyes would get, not when he was finally smiling again)

She was softer around Blaine but never as soft as she had been. He understood it as much as he missed it.

They spent long summer days curled up together, whispering their dreams and their fears, watching movies, singing.

"Santana, why don't you sing?"

"Blainers, I was singing like two minutes ago."

"I meant for anybody else."

"I don't know."

"Maybe you should join the glee club at your school, your voice is beautiful." His soft voice got softer, "Maybe it would be good for you. Maybe you'd be happy again."

She hated that Blaine, even with him all the way in Westerville, somehow knew what she had hardened herself into. She hated that Blaine had seen straight through her. It shouldn't have been surprising-he'd always had a knack for it-but now she felt like she was too terrible for him to save. It had been her who had held his heart and let it shatter. She should have saved him and she hadn't. But this was _Blaine, _and all he did was save her no matter how much she wished he'd stop.

"I'm happy now." And when she looked into his eyes, maybe she wasn't lying as much as she thought.

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><p>Blaine's eyes were knowing at Santana pulled Brittany towards him, his smile sweet as he took in their clasped pinkies and easy banter. Blaine saw the way Santana looked at Brittany long before Santana knew she was doing it. She might have wondered about the size of his smile if she could have looked away from Brittany's.<p>

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><p>Blaine adored Brittany, with her soft blue eyes and crazy ideas. Brittany adored Blaine, with his big, shiny smile and wild, excited hand gestures. From the moment they met they got on amazingly. They just understood each other, the way only two people who were completely similar-<em>completely wonderful<em>-could.

They were like her own personal sunlight as they danced and laughed and hugged. Like she didn't even know how to be anything but the happy with them curled up on either side of her, finally quiet with drooping eyelids; so very similar to a pair of exhausted toddlers.

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><p>"She's amazing." He told Santana, taking her hand and looking at her like he was about to confess a secret. Or like he wanted her to confess one.<p>

"She's a bit slow." _She's not, she just reaches different conclusions is all._

"Except you think she's the smartest person you've ever met."

"I think that title actually belongs to you, Blainers. She's not much, but she's funny, I guess." _She's everything. _

"You find her interesting, _special_."

"I don't." _I do. _

"You've never lied to me before, don't start now."

"She's just different, Blaine." _She reminds me of how you used to be. She reminds me of you and I always loved you so much. I can't help it with her. I can't. _

"You need something different."

"You're confusing."

"It's simple."

"Explain it to me?"

"When you're ready."

"Dalton has made you think you're some kind of Gay Yoda, you know that, don't you?"

He winked, "And proud."

* * *

><p>In the summer, with Blaine and Brittany, her sunshine twins, always at her side, one or the other or <em>both <em>(which was always the best kind of chaos)_, _Santana almost forgot what it was not to smile all the time.

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><p>Saying goodbye to Blaine again, as they sat amongst the half packed boxes he'd take with him to Dalton, was harder than it had been before.<p>

He had been broken, sad and nervous. But he had never been _excited _to leave her before. Now his smile was wide and he bounced where he was, talking endlessly about his friendsand his teachers and the songs he wanted to sing. She tried her best to smile too, like she was nothing but glad that she wasn't a part of his other world.

He cut himself off in the middle of a monologue about the argument he would use to convince the Warblers of a Taylor Swift medley and said, eyes sad and honest, "Honestly, it's just...not the same. This is the first time I'm actually starting a school year without you. I didn't want to think about it. I wanted to act like I was fine, but I can't. Santana, I've cried myself to sleep every night this week. I hate doing this without you. I hate not seeing you every day. I miss you all the time and I don't know what to do. I feel like part of me is missing, is that stupid?"

She just fell into his arms and promised she'd do whatever it took to visit more often.

"I love you, Blaine."

"I love you too, more than anybody."

"I'll be better, I promise. I'll be there more, even if I have to do it from here."

* * *

><p>Their sophomore year started.<p>

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><p><strong>review?<br>hope you enjoyed it, the next one _will _be up soon, for real this time ;)**

**love you all**  
><strong>xoxo<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**two chapters in one day?  
>oh yes indeed.<strong>

**the usual disclaimers and what not apply.**  
><strong>(also, my apologies for any typos in this chapter or the last, i wrote far too much of them in the middle of the night or whilst trying to juggle multiple things at once. not the most cohesive environment for successful writing but it's the only way i can get anything done. it's an issue)<strong>

**enjoy! :) **

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><p>Santana hated that Hummel boy.<p>

He was so much like Blaine had been. His eyes didn't trail after girls, and no matter how subtle he thought he was, she'd seen them linger on Finn Hudson. His clothes were impeccable and she had never seen him with a hair out of place. The neanderthals at McKinley (not any different from the ones at Jackson) maybe didn't know he was gay the way she did-she knew what to look for just because Hummel was so much like Blaine had been two years before-they just knew he was different. They had been told people like Hummel, like _Blaine, _were predatory, different, something to be afraid of. And if Santana knew anything about large, stupid boys, it was that fear made them violent. Especially fears they didn't understand (and there was nothing to understand other than their own ignorance, but idiots are the least likely people to admit their own wrongness, so Santana wasn't really holding out on it happening.)

She didn't hate Hummel because he was like Blaine though, she hated him because he _wasn't. _They threw slurs, slushees and _him. _She had _seen_ the dark collage bruises on his hunched back as some of his nameless glee friends had fussed over him. But Hummel didn't get quiet, he didn't get afraid, hurt, broken. He lifted his chin up, wore increasingly fabulous outfits and spoke out even louder against the oppression the idiots were trying to force on him. She hated him because he had friends to rally around him when their small world tried to bring him down. Because he had someone, something, somewhere, that made him strong enough to face the abuse with haughty eyes and snappy remarks. She hated him because he had exactly what Blaine _hadn't_. She hated him because it was easier than hating herself.

She looked at the proud tilt of his chin, the steel that flashed behind his eyes because he _refused _to cry for what these people did to him. She listened to him tell them that _they would work for him someday. _She listened to him tell his friend-Ferrari or something-that they were just ignorant and small minded. She watched his car friend-Ford? Lamborghini? _Mercedes_-hold his bag as he cleaned himself off, watched her grab his hand in solidarity, watched her laugh with him. She watched her do all the things that Santana should have done for Blaine, and she hated her too.

She hated the glee club for their hopeful voices and stupid optimism and for the way they had somehow taken a bunch of misfits and freaks and turned them into something like a family.

* * *

><p>"You will join the glee club, and you will destroy it."<p>

Santana had never heard a better idea in her life.

* * *

><p>"You joined glee club! Oh San, I'm so pleased! I just know you'll love it, even if you pretend not to." Blaine's smile was blinding, even across the phone lines. His enthusiasm for the idea made her feel a little bit sick-if only he knew why she had joined. If only he knew that Santana had become the kind of person who would help destroy something that made kids who were <em>just like him<em> happy.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Give it a chance, Santana. I know it's not the most popular group at some schools-_not_ including Dalton thankfully!-but the kind of people it brings together, it's magic."

The optimism in Blaine's voice, the fact that some of these kids were maybe like _Blaine, _was what made her decide to actually give it a chance.

It was Blaine's voice, so bright with the hope of Santana finding something to make her happy, that changed things for her.

Because glee club had given her Blaine back, really. Brought his smile and his voice back.

* * *

><p>Santana actually did hate Rachel Berry though, with her lovely voice and her vast overestimation of her own worth.<p>

She wanted to punch the little midget in the mouth, just to see if it'd shut her up for a second.

Her respect for Kurt Hummel grew astronomically as she watched him shut her down with a few well placed words and a flick of his bangs. Nonchalant and not even violent and he still managed to get her quiet. She was almost, oddly, _proud _of his fierceness.

* * *

><p>She watched Kurt tear into the people who tormented him and she found that she didn't hate him for the way he didn't cry for them, instead she hated the world for making it seem like he should have to.<p>

* * *

><p>Kurt Hummel reminded Santana of Blaine. Blaine was a little more naive, a little sweeter. Blaine lacked the anger, the sense of injustice. He reminded her of Blaine when he smiled though, the way it lit up his face like a beacon. And he reminded her of Blaine when he sang, achieving a fragile peace within the words on his lips. He reminded her of Blaine most though, when he cried. He was made of steel with slushee dripping down his neck and the clang of a body hitting a locker still ringing through the air, but she had seen what happened once he was whisked into the ladies room, as with a shuddering breath everything that kept him strong fell away, leaving him to sob his way through the process of piecing himself back together.<p>

She couldn't hate him at all once she'd seen him cry like that.

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><p><strong>review?<strong>

**shortish chapter but i wanted to just address Santana's feelings towards Glee club (Kurt specifically) in this one, without getting in on anything else quite yet.**  
><strong>hope you enjoyed it!<strong> 

**love you all**  
><strong>xoxo<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

_**THE RATING HAS GONE UP ON THIS STORY.  
><strong>i said from the beginning that it might and now it has. it's mostly just to be safe at this point, but still. _

_i know it's been a while and i'm sorry. i hope you're still with me, and that you'll excuse the waiting i subject you all to-it's not intentional i just get busy with life sometimes/i'm usually writing like eight different things and it just depends on which one is currently holding my fancy. _

_i don't know how i feel about this chapter, even though it was always going to happen. _

**_warnings: dubcon, sexual situations, underage drinking, language. _**

* * *

><p><strong>From: Blainers <strong>

**Hey San! Jeff's brother is having a party this weekend, we're all going. Want to come with?**

**From: San! :)**

**I can't. slyvester is being a slave driver b/c she's mad at schue. Sorry B! :(**

* * *

><p>Blaine could hear the pounding music from the bottom of the driveway and by the time he walked through the door he could feel the bass line weaving itself into his heartbeat. He'd never been to a party at all, let alone a <em>college<em>party but as he looked at the writhing, anonymous mass of people and the bright smiles on the faces of the other Warblers he thought that it might be a good night.

"DRINKS!" Jeff shouted, emerging from the crowd and grabbing Blaine by the collar and pulling him towards the make-shift bar, "BlaineyBear looks so sober and it's making me want to cry."

Blaine looked at the raised eyebrow on the boy who had apparently elected himself bartender (sans pants) and said, "I'll just take a coke."

"WITH RUM!" Jeff screeched, throwing himself around Blaine's neck with a wide grin. "I know you didn't drive, sooooo you don't get to be sober. Plus, I invited you for the sole purpose of corruption. Don't take that away from me Blainers. Pleaaaase."

"Fine. One drink."

* * *

><p>His head is spinning, the music loud and the lights flashing over faces in a dizzying swirl of colours.<p>

There's a crowd of warm bodies around him, but the closest person is the tall boy who had come up to him after his second-third?-drink with pretty eyes and floppy hair and asked him for a dance.

Dancing and more drinking and Blaine liked this boy even if he couldn't quite remember what his name was.

* * *

><p>His lips were soft, warm and they tasted like beer which wouldn't have been Blaine's first choice normally, but everything was kind of blurry around the edges and he decided he didn't really care. And his hands felt <em>so<em> nice, one tangled in Blaine's long curls and one low on his hip.

Blaine hadn't ever been kissed before, but he thought he kind of liked it.

* * *

><p>"God, I can't wait to have your mouth on me, Blake."<p>

Blaine wanted to tell him that wasn't his name, wanted to tell him that obviously his mouth was on him already because they were kissing _duh_ but the boy tilted his head a little bit closer and whatever Blaine had tried to say was lost in between their lips.

* * *

><p>"I'm really drunk-"<p>

"That's fine, so am I."

"Maybe we shouldn't-"

"Shh, baby, don't worry about it, you're just so pretty, I can't help myself."

His hands didn't feel so nice when they were pressing down, forcing him to his knees. Blaine didn't _feel _pretty with those hands holding his head still as the tip of his cock slid past Blaine's lips.

* * *

><p>He was heavy and thick and <em>wrong <em>in Blaine's mouth. But his head felt fuzzy and the boy was stroking his curls and telling him he was beautiful, _perfect_.

Nobody had ever told him he was perfect before.

* * *

><p>Blaine's mouth tastes foul after. A bitter reminder of the way that boy had buckled his belt back up, patted his cheek with a "<em>Thanks <em>_for __that, __Bryce. __I __seriously __needed __to __get __off __and __I __got __lucky, __finding __a __pretty __little __slut __like __you.__" _and left. He had just _left _like it hadn't mattered at all.

Blaine wasn't sure how long it took him to realize that it hadn't mattered, not at all. Only to him.

* * *

><p>He doesn't know how long he's been curled away in this dark room, the tastes of shame and of semen dancing together over his tongue, when he hears her voice.<p>

"Blaine? Are you in here? I got out of practice early. Wes said he saw you come up this way a-Blaine?"

Her hands are on him then, smoothing down his hair, wiping away tears he hadn't even realized he'd been crying. Her hands are gentle and smooth, not rough with callouses and impatience, and it just makes him cry more.

"Tell me what happened, I'll fucking kill whoever did this to you."

"I did this. I did. It's my fault." His voice doesn't even sound like it belongs to him, coming out hollow and rasping and just a little bit slurred, "I'm stupid and disgusting and I don't even know how you can look at me right now. I did this. Oh god."

He tries to turn away from her, from the concern in her eyes and the way she looks at him like he's the most special person in the world. He's not special at all, just another stupid drunk boy. Just another _slut _at a party.

"He c-called me Blake and I don't even know what his name started with. He was my f-first kiss and I don't ev-even know his name."

"Blaine, it's alright. Shh."

"H-he told me I was b-beautiful and I thought that m-made it okay. Nobody ever c-called me beautiful and i-it felt so n-nice but now all I can t-taste is him in my m-mouth and I don't f-feel beautiful. I feel d-disgusting."

"Shh, sweetie. Shhh, you're not disgusting, you're not. Please don't cry. Please."

"He left. He just...he left. B-because it didn't matter. Because I-I don't m-matter."

His hand is fisted in her sweater and she can feel the way he's shaking apart, and it's like her arms are the only thing keeping him together as she whispers, voice desperate with conviction, "You do matter. You matter to me, more than anybody else. You've always mattered the most."

"I don't f-feel like I matter. H-he called me a slut, Santana, and it d-didn't feel like a l-lie."

"Oh Blaine, darling. Don't believe that, please. I know what it's like to be a slut and it doesn't feel like this. Not even close."

* * *

><p>She doesn't know how long they sit there, Blaine trying to piece himself back together and Santana wishing with everything she's got that the world would just stop tearing him apart in the first place, before Wes and David walk in, looking for them.<p>

Before anyone can say a thing Blaine is pulling away from her, his face falling seamlessly into such a distracting smile that even Santana almost misses the tear tracks still running down his face, "Sorry, we were just catching up! We'll be down in a second, okay?"

She watches the other boys smile and leave, watches the way Blaine makes sure they don't see anything that anything is wrong, and she wonders when he got so _good_ at this. When Blaine got so good at pretending that everything was fine, when he found the time to create a fortress to keep all his hurt inside of himself.

"Blaine-"

"They're waiting, we should get going."

And she's terrified that he's pushing her away too until he tangles their fingers together and whispers, "Thank you, Santana. I love you."

* * *

><p>They're curled together on Blaine's bed, hands still tangled between them, eyes heavy with the hours and emotions of the day, and she's on the cusp of sleep when his breath blows across her face and he whispers, "I know you forget it sometimes, but you matter too. So very much."<p>

* * *

><p><em>review?<em>

_(i am so, so sorry Blainers. i do honestly love you so much. i have no idea why i keep doing these things to you)_

_thank you, as always, for reading._  
><em>stay beautiful.<em>  
><em>xo<em>


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